Twitter: The Grease Trap Of The Human Meat Computer

December 6th, 2009 | brainjuice

For a while, I had a capture of my twitter feed running here. It ended up doing something weird to my API calls, stopping me from running my desktop client, so I killed it. Which is probably just as well, as I talk a lot of shit on Twitter. It’s basically mental slurry, the wet lumpy bits from a day spent at the keyboard vented off into a trap so the buildup doesn’t blow some crucial valve in my head. Look at these, from the last month:

* THE MANY SUICIDES OF AQUAMAN: The Loneliness Of The Underwater Crimefighter When There’s No Fucking Crime Underwater

* BATMAN’S FATAL HEADSHOT: His Parents Died Twenty Years Ago, But Only Today Did He Find Their Hidden Rape Shed

* My daughter, hanging off the edge of the sofa she’s converted into a sick bed: "I need baconceuticals, old man."

* pitching new tv series SHIT MY DAD SAYS FROM INSIDE HIS CREMATION URN

* constantly disappointed at how few people habitually refer to me as "Love Swami"

(in re: Thanksgiving, and Yanks wishing me a good one:)

* Here in Britain, of course, it’s Thank Fuck We Got Those Weird Jesus Bastards On The Boat Day

* don’t listen to Wil Wheaton. Chloroform is not a flavour.

* LIE TO ME is all I want from evening television: a bloke from London shouting at people and then slapping them around a bit

* If you love something, set it free. With one of those tracker anklets. With a bomb on it.

* Huddled under a grey blanket in an abandoned hospital listening to Leyland Kirby’s doomladen SADLY THE FUTURE IS NO LONGER WHAT IT WAS

* The word that sums up 2009: "moonwater" or "shitbeetles"?

* the term "beard" shall henceforth be replaced by "crackling virility hedge"

* pitching my new tv show BACHELOR ROULETTE: ONE OF THESE WOMEN IS OFF HER ANTI-PSYCHOTICS AND WE GAVE HER A GUN

* I don’t care what anyone says, I’m changing my job description on my passport to "Space Bastard"

* hammer pneumatic fucking drills into that editor’s face until he has arseholes for eyes oh shit twtter’s on hello there

* when i find out who lost every wine opener in this house, i’m going to fucking flay them and sell their skin as cumrags for crackwhores

* @BRIANMBENDIS why don’t you call people back after you sleep with them YOU VENAL SLUT

* #followfriday: the terrifying pill-and-whisky hallucination I had in 1988 @PinocchioWithScreamingCocksForEyes

* #followfriday multi-lobed "human rat king" with intertwined brain stems living under MI5 HQ in London @MisterSexCortex

* Good morning, sinners. One more day of this bullshit to go, and then we can all kill ourselves at the weekend. So SMILE!

* phoning Hollywood to pitch THE MUMMY IV: I SHIT DUST

* Related: also trying to beat out Joss Whedon’s TERMINATOR pitch with TERMINATOR: I SHIT ROBOTS

* But, coming soon, Sandra Bullock romantic comedy I SHIT NEW BOYFRIENDS

* I have 149,935 followers. The 150,000th must kill someone of my choosing or I will murder their family.

* Even when the darkest clouds are in the sky/ You mustn’t sigh and you mustn’t cry/ Spread a little stabbiness as you go by

* i wish to ride into battle upon a school of Mongolian Terror Trout

* and by "ride into battle" i mean "go to the pub"


7 Responses to “Twitter: The Grease Trap Of The Human Meat Computer”

  1. Thank you Love Swami, I may now freely enjoy the Holiday season.

    Santa came early this year, and he came loaded!

  2. These were my favorite parts of Shivering Sands…Sodimized with a violin bow…hmmm…possible totw.

  3. life without your tweets is no life at all
    follow me @teethlikecurses where I drink and bullshit

  4. This is everything Twitter should be.
    You make me want to grow a crackling virility hedge of my very own.

  5. Fantastic. Still not signing up for that shit though.

  6. You and Macolm Tucker. Even Conan would be satisfied that these are best in life.

  7. [...] Thanks Warren: “Twitter: The Grease Trap Of The Human Meat Computer”. We should all get our own [...]